


Untouched

by lrose20



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 11:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrose20/pseuds/lrose20
Summary: Written for the Good Omens kink meme for the following prompt:Crowley and Aziraphale are both completely overwhelmed at being able to touch each other. The first thing they do in a physical sense together is to get into bed and just hold each other, stroking, petting. Maybe they get naked after a while, too.Title is inspired from this song: https://youtu.be/ykW4rtW2eu0





	Untouched

“So Angel, I tempted you to dinner. Your turn. World’s your oyster,” Crowley told the angel as they walked away from the Ritz. He was doing his very best to keep his voice casual and relaxed, not wanting to give away his own desire. Which was to never let Aziraphale out of his sight again. Well, never was a long time. They’d end up killing each other eventually. But the point was, after everything they had gone through, the last thing Crowley wanted was to be away from his friend. Aziraphale on the other hand might very well have wanted to see his shop, be alone, rest.

The angel in question gave a nervous smile, hands fidgeting more than normal. He wet his lips, before hesitantly replying. “Well I-I was thinking it might be nice to go back to your flat.” 

The demon stared with open disbelief; the only thing that would have made him appear more comical was if his jaw had dropped. 

Seeing this reaction, Aziraphale flushed and immediately tried to back pedal, stammering, “I mean-no, silly, I know you like your privacy, we could just-“

”No!” Crowley interjected, and then instantly grimaced-way to act subtle, well done. “No, I’m just-em, why my place, Angel? Nothing special about it, you saw it last night.”

Aziraphale shook his head in disagreement. “Not really. We were rather focused on figuring out how to keep Heaven and Hell from destroying us, you may recall, I think you were there-“

”Cheeky,” Crowley grumbled under his breath.

”So I didn’t get a chance to really enjoy it,” Aziraphale continued, as though he hadn’t heard a thing. “We could go back, have a drink. You could show me your plants...”

Well, Crowley could hardly argue with that. His plants were his pride and joy. And he did want to continue spending time with Aziraphale. “Alright then,” he conceded. “Come on.” Holding Aziraphale by the sleeve, he snapped his fingers and they were miracles into his living room. 

Aziraphale shook himself off a little bit before looking around. He hadn’t been lying when he said he really hadn’t had a chance to appreciate the flat. But he didn’t want to appreciate it. He didn’t actually want a drink. He would have been happy enough to see the plants and give them a bit of desperately needed TLC. That would have to wait though. 

For as soon as he’d settled his corporeal form, he was turning and wrapping his arms around Crowley as tight as possible. He buried his face against the demon’s jacket, and breathed in deeply. 

“....Angel?” Crowley said after a moment of silent bafflement. “What’re you-?” 

“Holding you.” Aziraphale pressed himself impossibly closer, hands clutching the back of the jacket. “I finally can.”

”Finally?” Crowley croaked out, still standing as still as a statue. Aziraphale was against him. Aziraphale was pressed against him. 

The angel pulled back then, but only enough so his blue eyes could peer at Crowley’s covered ones. “Finally,” he said in confirmation. “Oh, my dear... I’m so very sorry...”

”Ngh?” came the response. 

“You didn’t know.” Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. “Crowley, I have wanted to touch you for a very long time. I pushed you away that day I have you the holy water. And I might have continued pushing you away if it hadn’t been for Armageddon. But you’re right. You’ve always been right.” 

Those words were enough to properly snap Crowley out of his stupor. When would he ever get the chance to hear Aziraphale say he was right? “Am I?” he asked, smugness warring with confusion in his voice. 

Aziraphale huffed our a small laugh, nodding. “You are. We’re...we’re on our own side. We always have been. We don’t have to hide anymore, I-i don’t have to hide anymore.”

Those words seemed to break something inside of him, because all at once he’d buried his face against Crowley’s chest, shuddering. Sucking in air, Crowley tentatively raised an arm so he could place it on Aziraphale’s back, at last retuning the touch. The other being let out a noise that sounded almost like a sob.

”Nah, you don’t have to,” Crowley told him, far more softly than he had been meaning to. Fuck, where had all his cool gone? “No one’s watching, Aziraphale. Except my plants,” he added darkly, which wrenched a weak chuckle from the still shaking angel. He pulled back again, one hand releasing the jacket to carefully pluck the dark sunglasses from the demon’s face.

Crowley opened his mouth to protest, only to falter at the look there in Aziraphale’s eyes. They shone with a thousand unspoken words, with aching, with desire. With emotions Crowley didn’t even think there were words for. 

“I’m ready to go the same speed, dear,” Aziraphale practically whispered.

”You-?” Crowley’s slitted yellow eyes searched Aziraphale’s face desperately for some kind of silent confirmation. Aziraphale gave a short nod and at that, Crowley’s eyes clenched shut, as laughter bubbles up, a smile stretching his mouth wide.

It startled Aziraphale for a moment before he too began laughing, tears welling up in his eyes. Clinging to each other they both sank to the floor, forheads resting against each other.

When at last their laughter had subsided, Aziraphale asked, “Can I-?” He pushed at the jacket to show what he meant.

”Yeah, ‘course angel,” Crowley said, already helping shake it from his shoulders. Aziraphale yanked it the rest of the way off, as Crowley’s hands turned to focus on his bow tie, pulling it off in three deft motions. 

Aziraphale’s soft hands traced over Crowley’s chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, unable to help himself. 

“Can I-?” he asked again, to which Crowley responded by placing a long finger against the angel’s lips. 

“You don’t have to ask. Whatever you want. It’s yours.”

A look of incredible fondness washed over Azirpahale’s face at that. Then it was as if something was possessing him, his hands yanking at buttons, pulling at material. When at last he had his hands on bare skin, Aziraphale returned his gaze to Crowley’s face, where the demon was looking at him with slack jawed wonder. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed. “I want you to feel me too.” 

Crowley opened his mouth to protest, wanting to somehow protect the angel's honor, not wanting to take advantage of him. But Aziraphale hushed him, nails skimming ever so lightly across his chest. "You are so very considerate, my dear. But I've kept you waiting long enough."

"Angel..." Crowley murmured. "....my knees are killing me, can we move?" 

Aziraphale swiftly removed a hand from the other being's bare skin, snapping his fingers. In an instant they were no longer on the cold hard ground, but rather upon Crowley's bed, which was topped with black silk sheets of the finest quality. "Better?" Aziraphale inquired, hands already returning to trace along his skin, mapping out all the details, from the ribs that pressed against his skin, to the trail of hair that ran down under his trousers. 

"Much," Crowley purred, raising his own hand now. Before the angel could question what he was doing, Crowley snapped his fingers, and the entire ensemble of Aziraphale's jacket, waistcoat, and undershirt were materialized away. 

"Crowley!" he protested hotly, looking around, trying to figure out just where his clothes had gone. 

"Oh, relaxsssss, Angel," Crowley hissed, pulling him flush against his own body. "They're all neatly folded and put away."

Aziraphale's expression brightened, much the same look he'd gotten when Crowley had miracled the stain off his coat in Tadfield. "Oh, Crowley! Thank you, that's so ni-"

"Shut up," Crowley groused, both hands finding the angel's bare waist and squeezing it, Aziraphale's words falling away into a soft sigh of delight. "G-Sa-someone help me, I don't think I could stop touching you now if I tried," Crowley growled under his breath. “‘M gonna make sure you can’t call me nice.” He reached forward and practically slammed his lips against the angel’s.

It was as if the world had exploded. Thousands of years leading to this kiss, it felt like the universe was screaming in their ears. Angel and demon brought together, and neither was entirely sure where one ended and the other began. Crowley’s tongue was dexterous, Aziraphale’s lips were plump and soft, and neither were particularly interested in pulling apart any time soon.

It was Aziraphale who, after quite a while of simply snogging, broke the kiss. He gave a rueful smile when Crowley whined in protest. 

“Shh, darling, I just have...other things in mind.” The way he said the words and the meaningful look he directed towards where Crowley’s trousers sat upon his skin hips left no room for interpretation.

Crowley swallowed hard, eyes wide, having gone full blown serpentine yellow. “Angel-“ his voice cracked and he tried again. “I-I would love to do that with you. Satan, I have-have wanted to for-well a long time.” 

“But?” The angel prompted him, cocking his head.

”But I- I don’t want to rush it because we feel like this. And I- I think I need time to just...wrap my head around even being allowed to touch you, to see you like this.”

Aziraphale didn’t appear offended or upset or even confused. Instead he simple nodded, not put out. “We wouldn’t want you to get whiplash, would we?” His lip quirked at his own reference to “you go too fast” 

“Would you prefer we stopped altogether? It’s quite alright if-“

”No!” Crowley interrupted urgently. He flushed at his own desperation but pressed on. “I still want to see more of you! If that’s okay...”

Aziraphale’s eyes gleamed, clearing hoping that would be the case.

”More than. But no miracles this time. You can just watch.” 

Crowley wanted to argue, but how was he supposed to when the idea of Aziraphale stripping in front of him was planted in his brain. “If you insist,” the demon answered with a fake grumble.

Looking at once both imperious and yet nervous, Aziraphale reached for the buttons of his trousers, undoing them slowly. To the outside observer it would have looked like he was trying to tease Crowley, give him a show. But it was really anticipation and the overwhelming knowledge he was about to let Crowley see everything.

This wouldn’t actually be the first time the demon had seen him nude. Once upon a time nudity had been completely normal. But it hadn’t been in this context. It hadn’t been intimate. 

With carefully calculated movements Aziraphale undid his trousers and slid them off his full, pale thighs. Crowley sucked in a weak breath he technically didn’t need. He watched with hungry eyes as the tweed trousers were removed altogether, leaving the angel in endearingly old fashioned pants. Aziraphale bit his lip, blue eyes flickering up to look at Crowley as he slid those off as well.

Leaving...well, nothing there. Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “Angel, I think you might be forgetting something.” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed in confusion, looking down. Then he flushed and looked back up, shaking his head. 

“Oh, no, I- I meant to not have an effort. I thought it would make you more comfortable, since you wanted to wait. I can change it though, if you’d prefer-“ 

Crowley shook his head, moving closer and putting a hand on Aziraphale’s bare hip. “It’s just fine. Means I can do this without consequence.” Eyes burning into Aziraphale’s, he reached his other hand down to stroke along the smooth bare skin where a human’s genitalia would have been. 

No consequence was a bit of an overstatement, as Aziraphale did shudder at the sensation, letting out a soft little gasp. But it was more the reaction you might get from running a hand along someone’s sides and arms. Sensual but not sexual. 

“You’re perfect,” Crowley groaned before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale went pink at the compliment, licking his lips before murmuring, "You're perfect."

Crowley huffed out a laugh but didn't try and argue, instead choosing to focus his attention on the bare soft flesh under his hands. He pushed the angel backwards so he had an easier angle to feel him, only to pause a moment later. Despite seeing each other naked before there were still areas one tended to not focus on- such as the lower butt, the groin, the inner thighs. It was the latter that Crowley's eyes were now drawn to. A human might have mistaken them for stretch marks that Aziraphale had oddly chosen to get color tattooed into. But the demon knew better. These streaks and cracks of gold were the same as the ones Uriel and the others hand in much more prominent places. Aziraphale's little traces of grace. "So that's where you've been hiding them," he whispered.

"I wouldn't call it hiding," Aziraphale argued, but Crowley was only half listening. He pressed the angel even further back so he was lying on his back, giving him ample access to the chubby, full thighs. He bit back a groan at the sight, pressing his lips against Aziraphale's skin and kissing. Having done it once, he found he couldn't help but do it again. And again. Over and over, peppering soft, lingering kisses upon every inch of gold he could find. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale breathed at one point, eyes closed, mouth half open. 

"Angel," Crowley returned, allowing himself to give the nickname as much reverence aloud as he had always used in his head. The word had long ago stopped being a way to refer to Aziraphale's holy status, and had instead been a word of affection, playful, annoyed, loving, and everything in between. It was only now that he was able to show that. He was given a few precious moments more to lavish his attention on those gorgeous, soft thighs, before Aziraphale put a had up, gently shoving at his chest to push him away. "You alright?" Crowley asked quickly, worried he'd overstepped somehow. 

Aziraphale shook his head at the other's concern. "Fine. But I want your kit off. Now," he added, in case the urgency in his tone hadn't been enough.

Crowley grinned cheekily. "Eager?" he teased, teeth gleaming in the dim light. 

"Desperate," Aziraphale corrected, in a hoarse voice that left Crowley feeling warm and suddenly not the least bit interested in teasing. He nodded mutely and snapped his fingers, doing away with his skin tight jeans and pants. (The latter was rather feminine if he was being honest, and while he didn't mind Aziraphale knowing that-honestly, he'd seen him as Nanny, now didn’t seem like the time to address that) 

“Better?” Crowley asked, voice low and tight. 

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale murmured, sitting back up and dragging Crowley close once more. The angel’s soft, pudgy hands roamed across bare skin, delighting in the little goosebumps he was able to create on Crowley. He let his fingertips move further to the demon’s back, hands going to move across his spine, when something stopped him. 

“Aziraphale?...Angel?” Crowley prompted, not getting any reply. And then he realized too late what had made the other pause. “It’s fine, you don’t need to…”

Aziraphale cut him off. “These scars… they’re from the Fall.” It was not a question, but Crowley nodded jerkily nonetheless. “Turn around for me?” Aziraphale requested, his expression unreadable. 

Crowley’s brows rose, alarmed at this idea. In all the states of vulnerability he’d let the angel see him in, this had never been one of them. He had always concealed his scars. The idea of his best friend, his most trusted confidant gazing upon the grotesque marks terrified him. But there was a gentleness in Aziraphale’s eyes and the demon wanted nothing more than to prove he was worth of that emotion. So steeling himself, he slowly shifted about on his knees, until he was facing away from Aziraphale, staring at the black dresser he kept against one wall.

“Oh, my darling,” Aziraphale breathed brokenly. Crowley’s spine was covered by two vicious, deep scars that started up near his neck and ran down to the end of his spine. They were black, but not a beautiful black, not like the night sky or the deep ocean. It was a charred black, red around the edges. These were the kind of scars that would never truly heal, no matter the demonic miracles that were used. 

“I know…” Crowley muttered. “They’re hideous.”

Aziraphale let out a noise that could only be described as offended. “They are not. They’re a part of you. And could never be hideous to me.” He leaned forward and, arms wrapping once again around Crowley’s waist, he placed a tender, **too** tender kiss upon the top of his back. Crowley shuddered, leaning back into the embrace, and if his eyes moistened with unshed tears, well the only witness was the dresser, which was wisely keeping mum. 

Reassured by the way Crowley pressed into him, Aziraphale began to pepper his back with kisses. Slowly and deliberately he covered every inch of the scars, mouth warm and ever so slightly moist. At length Crowley managed to find the voice to ask, “Am I dreaming?”

Aziraphale paused in his ministrations, pulling his mouth away. “What’s that?”

“Am I dreaming?” Crowley repeated. “Got to be, don’t I? Having you here with me. Getting to touch you. Must be a dream.” 

Aziraphale laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. “If it is then I assuredly do not want to ever wake up.” At that Crowley whirled around and nearly slammed his mouth against the angel’s for the second time that night, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of affection he was feeling. Aziraphale gasped in surprise but didn’t pull away, meeting the kiss with a fervor that Crowley was surprised by. He should have expected it though, he thought fondly. His hedonistic angel. 

They broke apart sooner than last time, but neither minded. A stillness had seemed to fall over them as the kiss had ended, a settling of nerves and emotions. “I’m not one for sleeping normally,” Aziraphale commented, in a way that would have seemed off handed, were it not for the way he was looking at Crowley. “But...I would very much like to lay down with you...and give it a go.” 

Crowley smiled, the same smile he had given just an hour or two ago, when they had toasted to the world. “Happy to show you the ropes. Come here.”

He pulled the naked angel up on the bed so they could reach the pillows, shifting him until they lay spooning, Crowley’s hands wrapped loosely around Aziraphale’s soft, round stomach. “There we go. Alright, angel?”

“With you? Always.”

And it was like that, in the arms of the creature who had cared for him for so long, protected him, fought for him, that Aziraphale first slept. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This took me WAY too long to finish writing but at last it’s done. I’m open to requests and more prompts so feel free to send them my way. Finally getting back into fic writing after years away, so I hope it’s not garbage.


End file.
